Strawberry Mornings
by Avide
Summary: A remix of snappleducated's "Always Tomorrow" that includes the family moving, Derek not being a total jerk-...and zombies. COMPLETE.
1. the batter

Casey had never heard anything ooze before, let alone the skull of a former human, but she did just then. She lowered the metal baseball bat in her hands and sighed heavily.

"You have to get used to it, at least to a point."

"Be quiet, Derek," She replied, eyes wide. "This is such a serious, unpleasant situation, and---"

In his loose rugby shirt and floppy hair, Derek gave that small smile---the one that spread across one part of his mouth more than the other. One hand reached up to scratch the back of his head, the other lowered his Beretta M93R, because the little clump of zombies was now crumpled on the pavement before them. Five undead people-eaters at once was a big deal for Casey McDonald, former college junior turned reluctant, complaining survivalist.

"Why aren't you helping our parents pack to leave town?"

Derek kept that little smile going. "My dad told me to watch out for you while you're rescuing puppies or whatever it is you came out here to do," he savored the glare Casey shot at him. "Even before this big human meltdown started, this was a part of town you'd never be in. Why the hell aren't you worrying about your blankets and matching desk lamp and s**t?"

Casey rolled her eyes and started walking again, eyeing the trees on both sides of the road.

"Most of the packing was finished by the time you decided to take off, Case; quit being so paranoid."

"We've lost people, we're fighting an awful disease…there are _**zombies**_…." Casey spat, refusing to look in Derek's direction. "Anywhere I'd like to go to be productive and get away from all of this is closed! I'm _**going**_ to _**worry**_!"

"Your mom is probably worrying about you right now."

"We'll be home in time…but…" Casey's head snapped in Derek's direction. "Did your dad make sure that we have enough gas in the van?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Yes. OF course, look, my father's a terrible cook, but not a fool, and you know it. Don't start a check list of things you don't think he's taken care of. After most of it was over, Edwin helped Dad power the mini-fridge with fruit and some sports drinks, so that we can keep some s**t cold on the drive…you know Liz has been on top of things… your mom has researched what towns still have open colleges…Marti made sure we're bringing the strawberry jam and her cat-ears headband..." Casey bit her lip and watched the ground as she walked. Derek briefly linked his pinkie finger with hers. "Chill out, stepsister."

"Shut up. Are you going to restart college with me?"

Gravel crunched beneath their sneakers.

"No." answered the former recipient of a hockey scholarship.

"She's really bringing the headband?"

Derek's face grew into a full grin at the thought of Marti. "Of course she is."

* * *

The blonde border officer with rosebud lips and a clipboard checked off the second-to-last question on her list. Derek's eyes slid up her body, though it was covered by a one-piece gray work suit. She looked to be his age, and he considered the likelihood of her having a sweet figure beneath the shapeless uniform. A hand smacked his arm. Derek turned to smirk at Liz, who was wagging a finger at him over the top of her copy of The Leadership Moment.

"What's in your trunk?" the officer inquired, her eyes scanning the family's faces for deception or nervousness.

"Duffels with clothes," Derek spoke up. "Also a makeshift bedpan for when we might need to----"

A hand smacked the back of his head, and he just _**knew**_ it wasn't Liz's this time. The blonde outside the van pressed the clipboard against her chest, covering her "Cindy" name patch, and capped her pen.

"Go ahead, folks." She replied, her lips tightening.

As the van drove past the check point, George sighed. "I love this family."

It made Derek give that little smile again.

* * *

Casey was frozen in the nearly empty hallway, her flats scrubbed clean of mud and the speckles of zombie detritus, Conestoga College paperwork in her hand, as she stared at the man in the folding chair a few feet away. He had the exit door propped partway open and had a shotgun, a can of pineapple juice, and a novel beside the chair. He blinked back at Casey in disbelief.

"P-Paul, what are you…?"

The man stood and smiled politely, extending a hand for her to shake. "Casey, I'm genuinely relieved to see that you're all right."

She shook his hand. "Do you work here now?"

"Yes," her former high school guidance counselor replied. "It's an attitude where the-group-protects-the-group, and if I play a part in that, the president of the school will find me a job more suited to my skills."

"Do you know a lot about dealing with the living dead?" Casey asked, feeling her stomach tighten at the thought.

Paul seemed to be flashing back in that moment. He blinked. "I know a few effective things. What weapons do you use?"

"A baseball bat, my car keys…"

"Oh, keys for stabbing?"

"Yes. My sister Lizzie suggested that some of us learn to use guns, and my stepdad followed through on it. My mom learned, too. It's so strange."

Seeing her facial expression, Paul took a step back. "There's a garbage can right over there. Please don't puke on me."

"I carry a Swiss Army knife in my Van Zeeland bag now. It…life is so… Is a cement trowel-wielding Kyra Schon around the next corner? When is Simon Baker going to show up in that pea coat and save me?"

Paul rubbed his forehead. "Talk Derek into attending this school with you, so he could be a bodyguard of sorts; I'm sure you could pay him with Zebra Cakes."

Casey's eyes somehow grew wider. Her mouth fell open and hand clenched. "Paul. Paul, you are the best guidance counselor ever. Good luck with the reanimated crazies."

He sighed heavily and sat down. A monotone gurgling sounded in the distance.

Casey clapped her palm over her mouth. "I think I need that garbage can."

* * *

_no matter how trendy the zombie sub-genre is.  
_


	2. add butter

"I'm concerned," were Derek's first words that following Sunday. "You're _**sashaying**_ and I want to know why."

Casey set the basket down on a chair and exaggerated concealing the small plastic billy club holstered to her waist.

"What's there to be afraid of, Derek?"

He watched her set out two plates and two floral-print napkins. He closed the front door and slowly leaned against it, silently damning the rest of the family's schedules for keeping them away.

"I'm impressed that you're awake at ten in the morning." Casey commented as she took out the jam and syrup in little glass jars.

"Holy crap." He whispered to himself.

"Sit down! What were you expecting to have for breakfast, Zebra Cakes and ramen?"

That brought Derek back to reality a little. "Is that whipped cream? You-you could've been one of those flesh bags with dried blood around their mouths, but no…you were busy with your Little Bo Cop weirdness. What is this for?"

Out came a very small pepper shaker full of powdered sugar and Derek began to salivate.

"Why'd you choose a policewoman costume? Where did the billy club come from? It's just bigger than one of those bottles of Hugz."

As he spoke, his eyes darted down her toned legs.

"This uniform is _**empowering**_----" she replied, but was cut off by a grunt outside the house.

Derek shushed her and hurried to the window, moving the curtain. "Aw f**k, I was afraid this would happen."

Casey's back straightened. "Is it a zombie?" she asked quietly, biting her lip. Her jaw twitched. "What's going on?"

"It's digging through the flower bed, probably looking for a finger from this house's former owners."

She smacked his arm as hard as she could, and over his complaints, retorted, "You idiot. Stop trying to scare me! That's disrespectful, you sick bastard!"

"Hit me again, please, but…use the whipped cream this time."

"Oh, shut up!"

"I have to go, um…hunt zombies. I had it all planned out. You should go. Have this breakfast with Liz and Marti or somebody later."

"You're kidding. I did all this and you're literally running scared?"

"Zebra Cakes just sound better."

"Keep the pancakes I made and these condiments to accompany them. You can clean everything up, too. I'll go, you big baby, but I'm taking the shovel."

"You have your billy club," Derek insisted. "And there really is a zombie outside, but it's chained to the neighbor's house."

"Once again, just shut up."

"This plague has made you a new woman. I like it."

He winked and she scoffed.

"You've kicked me out. It's too late to hit on me."

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Paul inquired. He arranged paperweights and picture frames on the desk before him.

Casey tilted her head to rest against the door frame and took a sip of her Snapple. "My plan has been executed flawlessly."

After a pause, Paul swallowed and asked, "What plan?"

"You know, the plan where I make pancakes for Derek and---"

"You made him---wait, I'm sorry to cut you off, Casey, but…don't get impatient with me when this is a moment worthy of shock and revelry."

"---costume."

"Was there a weapon involved?"

"It came with a fake billy club."

"He could not believe the lengths I'd gone to, and he didn't seem to believe it was really happening!" Casey chuckled and shook her head, reminiscing with pride.

"Do you have a specific goal here? Kissing, or…or…love?"

Casey's gaze left those of her former counselor. "Is this your new office?"

"Nope."

Paul's smile remained and he started to spray a rag with wood cleaner.

Nodding slowly, Casey replied, "Good luck! I have to get to class."

* * *

It was quite difficult to avoid Derek when he again lived in the same house she did, and no longer had school or a job. She felt she had to do it, though, as part of her super-secret plan to entice him. She didn't respond to any phone calls or text messages from him, nor did she allow herself any stares at him during family meals. Glances that contained (she hoped) complete neutrality were the only looks she wanted to send. She hadn't before realized that the relationship between them had changed drastically since high school, until this communication freeze. At least Derek had stopped sending texts saying, "If you're pissed at me, just say so."

She lasted only a few days. In her mind, there was only one completely appropriate way to make up for what she had done: more pancakes. Leaving the picnic basket on the makeshift desk in his bedroom seemed the way to go (couldn't have the family know). Heading to the family car, Casey's mind whirred through ideas: how angry could Derek be at her if he hadn't texted for an entire day? Had he decided that her first pancake breakfast was a "family moment"? Was everything just utterly ruined, and she'd never catch him doing a double-take at her appearance again? She looked around for stumbling, heavy-breathing undead, and upon seeing none, started sniffling. Her eyes watered immediately. When she finished wiping her eyes and cheeks, hoping that her makeup wasn't streaked, she moved to the car door. In the window's reflection, she saw a very familiar face and spun around.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, a teary gasp bursting from her throat. "I'm sorry."

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of jacket. His feet were bare beneath plaid pajama pants.

"I-I'm sorry, I won't do it again." She added, sniffling.

"What are you doing out here without a shovel or a gun?" he inquired, his eyes darting around. "You know, Great Panic, World War Z and what-not."

A small ache started in Casey's chest. She sat down on the curb and removed her Betsey Johnson shoes, then her striped socks and locked her wet eyes with Derek's dry ones she couldn't read. His hands left his pockets. She insisted he put the socks on, her hand that held the car keys making a noisy flourish in the air.

"I'm going to go now. Make sure you _**wear**_ these."

Then she drove off, regretting it the whole way.


	3. with syrup, enjoy

"Paul?"

His head poked out of the janitor's closet.

"Casey, things sound rough," he answered, coughing. "Were you crying?"

"Yes," She imagined her tear ducts opening their flood gates. "Paul, I'm terrible, awful, horrendous. My heart is half-blue, I swear, and there are no signs of a thaw."

"You're not any of that," Paul replied, moving things inside the closet. Something metallic smacked the ground and he poked his head out to look at her once more. "By the way, don't look in here. I mean it."

"Is there a mess?"

"Yes, because…some of these sponges appear to be partially eaten."

Casey swallowed and shifted her feet. "I hurt Derek's feelings, and I just know that it was bad, because he went a whole day not trying to get hold of me. I feel horrible! I think I've really screwed up whatever chance I had of winning him over---" she paused to take a ragged inhale. "I might never know if we could have something. It seems like he's forgiven me, and…I can't wrap my mind around it."

From inside the closet: "How do sponges resemble human flesh?"

"Paul, everything you said was true. You were right."

With that, she turned and walked away.

"How would I fit a desk in here?" Paul mumbled.

* * *

Someone lifted the hood of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her eyes. The ties of it were cinched, bringing the edges of the hood closer and closer to her nose, narrowing her field of vision.

"Derek, stop it!" she tried to say, though it came out much sleepier than that, in a thick, low voice. Lifting her head, she darted her eyes to the nearby alarm clock. It wasn't even eight a.m.

Derek whispered something about her getting caught with a boy in her room. The fact that he didn't mention his legal title as her stepbrother made the muscles in her shoulders loosen.

Casey shoved him to the other end of her bed. "How'd you get in here in the getting-ready-for-school business?"

"Think about what you just said. None of the younger ones would say something. I'm the great one who could kick Liz and Ed around."

"W-why are you _**awake**_ so early? I mean, you're…_**you**_." She said.

Derek was off the bed and in her closet, rummaging, shoving, grabbing. He seized a pair of sweatpants, something with red lettering on it, and a rust-colored sweatshirt she didn't remember owning. Maybe it had started out a different color and eventually seen Derek's creative side…

"Don't take forever." He instructed, jangling the car keys.

She allowed him to push her into the bathroom and stared at her doe-eyed surprise in the mirror. It was going to be an enlightening morning.

* * *

Derek looked so tired and he had crazy bed head, but his eyes were smiling.

His mouth half-full of warm, whipped cream-coated strawberry, he pointed across the diner and said, "Hey, is that the border guard?"

"Stop it, Derek!" Casey shot back, smacking his hand down.

"You wouldn't want to see how Blondie does breakfast?"

"Maybe she ordered a leaf and grape skins?"

Derek smiled. Casey felt a sharp pang in her chest. His knee touched hers again.

"The zombies have helped you."

"What?"

"There's a lot more behind those eyes now."

Upon hearing his words, she felt her throat tighten a bit.

* * *

The school loomed before her in a way that wasn't ominous or annoyed-groan-inducing, but because if Casey looked to the driver's seat of the car, she saw Derek; a more alert, comfortable-looking Derek with clean, styled hair. The morning sun was decorating the sky with both yellow and dark orange, as well as a dash of mist over the trees and air and grass. Casey loved the hopeful uncertainties set in such a lovely atmosphere.

"I'll see you after school," Derek said quietly. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, by the way," he added, his tone slow. "Come 'ere."

Her eyes lit up as she leaned his way a bit. He chuckled at her and shifted closer. His warm, bare lips gently pushed against hers. Immediately, she felt herself wake up more, passionately wanting more kisses _**right now**_. School, what school?

After another gentle moment, Derek pulled away. He sighed and met Casey's gaze with warm chocolate eyes. She felt her eyes well up again.

"I love you." She squeaked, then hurried out of the car.


End file.
